This City
by EE's Skysong
Summary: Remy comes back to Bayville after five years down South and runs into John.


Disclaimer: "Eddie Kaspbrak blasts off! Today in Derry, the whole city turned out for Asthmatics on Parade, and the star of the show is Big Ed the Snothead!"

(Disclaimer: This little plotbunny bit me due to too much IT, I think. Yeah, yeah, humor and angst don't really go together, but I can't make sense all the time, can I?)

_Damn,_ Remy thought, _this place hasn't changed much._ It was his first time in Bayville since his little "trip" down South. It'd been five years and Bayville Park looked exactly the same. Sure, maybe some graffiti'd changed, but the crappy benches were still crappy, the trees were still struggling for life, and the grass still didn't quite reach the green it aspired to.

Remy sucked in a deep breath and regretted it. The place still stunk, too. He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. It was kinda like him, after these five years- pretty much the same, but grittier.

He leaned his head back, looking up at the cloudless sky, the only pretty part of this whole scene. _What am I _doing_ here?_ he wondered. _I hate it here. Always have, always will. Business deal, my ass. This place's got me by the balls, is all. I hate it as much as it hates me... and yet I still keep comin' back._ Remy sighed and continued his melancholy stroll down the park road.

He'd left five years ago to save his dad and had gotten tangled up in events down South ever since. He was a full-time thief now- Magneto had left him alone and then had sent him a letter informing him his contract was up. It was weird behavior for Magsy, but that was to be expected.

Remy had all intent to head back to his apartment and get off this little Memory Lane from Hell trip, until he saw the redhead.

The dude was sitting on a particularly scarred bench, scribbling furiously in a notebook. A pair of orange sunglasses was stuck in his long equally orange hair, done back in a ponytail. Remy blinked. _Nuh-uh, no way..._ Then the guy looked up, revealing green eyes and a familiar "I've-got-so-much-inspiration-that-my-head-might-just-explode" look.

Remy smirked and sat down next to the dude, pulling off his sunglasses in a movement so practiced it was beyond habit.

"Hey, this is- ...taken?" John said, his expression going from annoyance to confusion to recognition in nothing flat. "...Remy?"

"The one and only."

John burst into a grin. "WHOA! What're you doin here, mate? Thought you'd left this 'shithole' behind for good!"

"You have the memory of an elephant and the tact of a gnat, _mon ami_," Remy responded, also grinning.

"Hey, I'm just quoting you," John replied, sticking out his tongue.

"I know that, midget."

"Hey!"

"It's been five years and I'm STILL a foot taller than you. I can tell."

"And you're still a narcisstic jerk."

"Ooh, big word, did you sprain something?"

"I use them all the time... IN MY BOOKS! I'm rich and not-so-famous and I bet you're living in a gutter in New Orleans."

"And I'll bet you're living in that shack the Brotherhood calls a boarding house."

"...Damn, how'd you know?"

"Dunno, maybe it's the picture of Wanda on the inside of your notebook?"

"Hey, at least I found SOMEBODY... Mr. All-I-have-to-do-is-say-'jump'-and-every-girl-will-say-'how high'."

_Not _every_ girl,_ Remy thought suddenly. Rogue. Seen her? Not in years. Thought of her? Hadn't been nearly as long since he'd done that.

"Hello, earth to swamp rat, helloooo anybody in there?"

"Sorry, _mon ami_, memory lane from hell moment."

"'Course, aren't they all?"

"I get the feeling that you mock me."

"Wouldn't be too far off in that."

"I should kill you."

"Ah, but we just MET, mate! You're not supposed to use death threats until at least the second date."

"John-boy, we are **far** beyond date status," Remy responded, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. "We've known each other so long we could be married."

"Ew, to you? I always thought that stupid bowl-cut you wore was **so** tacky... what happened to it, anyway, you finally look in a mirror?"

"My sister-in-law attacked me with a pair of scissors... so says ponytail-boy."

"Wanda thinks my ponytail's sexy."

"...ew... I don't even want to **think** about that."

"Oh, yeah, right, how-high-boy."

"Would you **stop** calling me that?"

John stuck his tongue out at him. "Seriously, mate, what the hell have you been doing?"

"Giving the hell to my family," Remy responded, "and I see you have aged five years to add to your one."

"I'm allowed to be immature, since I've only cracked 22 now, meester 26-year-old-midget."

"Foot. Taller. Than. You. Do you speaky my English, oh great Aussie freak boy?"

"So says Cajun man, for whom it is impossible to go five words without slipping into French."

"_You suck, I wish to kill you, you're a bastard, you're an Australian midget freak._"

"Why, Remy, five years apart and **now** you finally tell me how you feel."

"I can tell by that blank look that perpetuates on your face that even if I repeated that in English you would be clueless as to what it meant."

"I hate you," John responded.

"You're supposed to, _mon ami._"

They probably could've went on like that forever- bantering back and forth and not learning anything real about each other and then just going on with their lives and forget about each other again. Remy realized this with a start. "Seriously, John, how you been?"

John grinned a sideways grin and launched off into life at the Brotherhood boarding house.

Remy smiled back and sighed, feeling better. The town had him by the balls, sure, but if it had people like John lurking around inside it, well, then, that was ok, wasn't it?

(Uhm... yeah... I've just had a lot of pointless, semi-angsty oneshots bouncing around in my head, ok? Review, 'cause I've never done anything like this before.)


End file.
